


Line of Succession

by dracoqueen22



Series: Tethers [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 18:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20550815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Rathi has spent her entire life preparing for this moment, and there’s nothing she wouldn’t do to earn it.





	Line of Succession

Her balcony looked out on the Mercury Sea and for as long as Rathi could remember, she'd woken to the morning geysers of fire-red lava and fell asleep to the quiet gurgle of the magma shifting in the caldera. She kept her curtains open to the hot, dry air, and flecks of ash and cinder would litter the balcony in a constant, fine layer she never allowed the servants to sweep. 

She was born in fire, and she relished it. 

Eryen, her brother, had always hated it here. So it surprised no one when he vanished the night he came of age, vanished where a scry couldn't find him, and everyone assumed, to another plane. He was alive, they knew this much thanks to their familial connection, but no one had seen him in years. 

Rathi missed Eryen often. But it had been his choice to leave, just as it had been her choice to stay and fight for the title he'd abandoned. 

And fight she had. 

Five of the city's finest warriors, soldiers she'd trained beside and against, soldiers who'd taught her everything she knew, and she'd taught them in return. They'd challenged the claim to the throne, and Rathi had defeated them all, one by one by one, proving she had right to claim it for herself. 

She'd paid the price in blood and bone, but it was worth it. Very, very worth it. 

She sat at her dressing table now, stripped to the waist, staring at herself in the mirror. She'd sent away the healers, once it was clear she would survive. She didn't want them to heal away the scars. They were proof of her victory. They were badges of honor. 

Rathi didn't mind the scars. 

Learning to function without a right arm, however, was going to be an interesting challenge. She didn't regret losing it, and was still a formidable foe whether she had two arms or not. But it was her dominant hand and her favorite for pleasurable pursuits, and now she'd have to rely on her left. 

Frustrating, but not impossible to overcome. 

"You are still quite beautiful, darling." 

Rathi looked to the top, right corner of her mirror, where an orange and white swirl gradually took shape, until it formed a face made of flame. "Oh, I know," she said with a broad smile. "I'm gorgeous no matter how many limbs I have. And I'm still capable of fulfilling our pact." 

"Of that I have no doubt." The fire spilled over the surface of the mirror, like water might spill down a high mountain, and took greater shape, that of a tall, vaguely humanoid individual made of flame. "You are my champion as much as you are champion to your people." 

"Good. Because I don't need two arms to be beautiful or a threat," Rathi said, squaring her shoulders, and swallowing down a wince as her injured shoulder ached and throbbed. 

An airy, warm laugh echoed from around her. "Does that mean you don't want my gift?" Firenya asked as she glided through the air, drifting until she stood behind Rathi, her flickering shape sending out licks of flame. 

"You give so many gifts, I'd hate to be greedy." 

Firenya rested her hands on Rathi's shoulders, and she could feel the heat of them, their barely present weight, though she knew if she looked behind her, no one would be there. 

"It's an offer, my champion." Firenya pressed her cheek to Rathi's, their eyes meeting in the mirror. "You'll need to be strong for the challenge to come." 

Rathi couldn't fight the shiver that raced down her spine. "Well, I'd hate to be rude in the face of your generosity. What would you have of me?" 

"Everything. But I'll take what I have for now." Firenya chuckled again. "Together, you and I will do fantastic things." 

As she spoke, her hand glided down Rathi's right side, where her arm used to be. Her fingers danced, and in their wake, a swirl of cinder-touched wind left something physical behind. 

Rathi felt the weight of it, the tug on her shoulder. An arm took shape, made of a burnished metal, as if it had been left behind in a great fire and stained by ash. She was granted fingers, and when she thought about moving them, the jointed metal twitched immediately, as if it was her very own flesh and blood. 

Her eyes widened. 

"This, my champion, is not permanent," Firenya murmured as her fingers danced up and down Rathi's arm. "It will be there when you need it, when you call on the gifts I gave you. But it draws on your internal flame, so be frugal." 

Rathi lifted her right arm to see if she could, and it responded to her commands. It was a bit heavier than her natural arm, so again, something she'd have to get used to. But she had the feeling she could pack quite a punch with it, perhaps even channel some of her elemental bursts through it. 

"I am very, very pleased with you, my champion," Firenya said as her hands returned to Rathi's shoulders. She rested her chin on the top of Rathi's head, nearly invisible in the cool yellow and orange of Rathi's flames. "You will be quite beautiful with a crown upon your head." 

One hand slid down, over Rathi's collar, a flame-painted palm resting over her heart, the very core of her. "And this is mine, yes?" 

Rathi's eyelids fluttered. She leaned back into Firenya's embrace, twitching her new metal fingers. "Yes. Of course." 

"Good," Firenya purred. "Very, very good." 

A rapid, loud knock on the door interrupted the moment. Rathi met Firenya's eyes in the mirror for a fraction of a second before she vanished, and so did Rathi's new arm, leaving her bedroom the only thing visible in the reflection. 

"Lady Rathi?" 

She shook herself out of a magic fugue, though her skin tingled where Firenya had touched her, and the faintest handprint shone on her chest against her bare skin. 

"Enter," Rathi said. She glanced in the mirror, but there was no trace of Firenya’s presence in the glass. 

Her door clicked open and Talia, her tiefling handmaiden, moved into the room, a swath of fabric draped over her arms. "I've brought your gown," she said as the door swung shut behind her. 

Rathi frowned. "For what?" 

"For the ceremony, of course." Talia draped the gown on the end of Rathi's bed, fussing with the length so it wouldn't wrinkle. 

"Oh, right." She'd forgotten about the Convocation, and the celebration that would follow it. Her people would take any opportunity to carouse, but then, the announcement of a named heir was something to praise. 

It would be centuries before her mother died, barring any unforeseen circumstances or an assassination attempt. Rathi wouldn't need to take her place on the throne for a long, long time to come. With any luck. 

"Your father picked the gown, but I can certainly swap it out if you prefer," Talia said. 

Rathi stood, tugging the ties to her trousers and letting them hit the floor. They were torn and spattered with blood anyway. She approached the bed, wearing nothing but her smallclothes, and looked over the gown.

It was a gauzy thing, shimmering silver, sleeveless but with only one strap, and long enough to sweep her ankles. Paired with simple jewelry and her diadem, she would look exactly like the empress she would eventually become. Father had excellent taste. 

"This'll do." She looked down at herself, at the array of bruises and splotches of blood and dirt. "Will you draw me a bath, Talia? I'd hate to ruin the gown." 

"Yes, milady. Right away." Talia smiled and swept into the adjoining bathing room, her departure followed by the squeak of her activating the water pipes and the splash of water filling the copper tub. 

Rathi hummed and returned to her dressing table, pulling out the drawer of jewelry to select something to decorate herself tonight. Simple metal, she thought. Delicate chains of platinum and dangling rings for her ears, studded with little rubies. Perfect. 

She bathed with Talia's help. In time, she'd grow accustomed to the loss of her limb, but for now, the assistance was most welcome. Talia helped her dress, apply her jewelry, the lines of kohl to her eyes, the stain to her lips, the intricate swirls of station to her face. 

Upon her remaining upper arm, Firenya's symbol seemed to hum with an arcane energy. The glyphs glowed brighter when she touched them, and Rathi took that as her patron's approval. 

Rathi stood, her feet bare save for the anklets chiming lightly when she moved. "Well?" she asked with a bright smile. "How do I look?" 

"Like the Empress you'll become," Talia said. 

Rathi chuckled and pulled Talia into a hug. They were as much master and assistant as they were friends, and Rathi would never admit it aloud, but she was secretly relieved nothing in Talia's eyes had changed, despite the loss of Rathi's limb. 

"Thank you," Rathi said. She pulled back, pressing a lipstained kiss to Talia's forehead. "Take the rest of the evening off, Talia. You've been most helpful." 

"And you are, as always, most generous." Talia cupped her face, a look of almost motherly concern briefly flickering into her eyes. "Cinder Mountain will prosper under you. I am sure of it." 

"Well, that's not for many centuries to come, let's hope." Rathi laughed. "I have many things I want to do before I grow old and heavy sitting on a throne for the rest of my life." 

Talia's smile softened. "You have too much fire to let age consume you. Of this, I'm sure." She patted Rathi on the cheek again before drawing away. "Is there anything more you need of me?" 

"Tell Father I'm ready? Then you can join the celebration without worrying about attending me tonight." 

Rathi checked herself in the mirror again, but she was perfect. Not a smudge, not a wrinkle, not a hair out of place. 

"As milady wishes." Talia excused herself with a playful curtsy, though Rathi had never demanded such things of her. 

"No need, daughter. I have come." 

Rathi smiled as she turned away from the mirror, her father stepping into the room as Talia bowed and slipped past him, closing the door behind her. 

"Your timing is always impeccable." Rathi chuckled as her father pulled her into a hug, though she had outpaced him in height some years back. The difference was only a few inches, but Rathi still teased him about it. 

"It's a gift parents are given when their children are born." Father laughed and pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks, though careful of her rouge. "The dress suits you. I was right." 

"As usual." Rathi stepped back and plucked at the fall of the fabric with her fingers. "I worried it would be too simple for the ceremony, but simple is better." 

"You already made your statement at the challenge. You don't need to make another on the dance floor. Unless you prefer to." Father folded his hands together, and the weight of his regard fell over her, warm and affectionate and approving. 

Rathi's height and mass she may have gotten from her mother, a powerful alary, but her agility and her looks were a gift from her father, a fire genasi. His long hair flicked into cool blue puffs of flame at the tip -- which could go red-hot when angered, Rathi knew. His eyes were kind, compared to the cool dismissal her mother was often found to offer. 

It was no easy task, ruling Cinder Mountain. Rathi was ready for the challenge. 

Still, she'd often envied her brother, who'd taken more after their mother. He had wings, and Rathi was jealous of his ability to fly. He might have complained about how cumbersome they were, but little matched the sheer joy on his face when he flew over the city. 

She wished he could be here now. 

Eryen had not wanted to rule. But she'd still like to think he'd be proud of her. 

"What's that look?" Father asked, and Rathi shook herself out of her ruminations. 

She wiped discreetly at the corner of her eye, careful not to smudge her kohl. "I was thinking of Eryen. I wish he was here." 

"We all do." Father rubbed at her cheek, probably blending her rouge a bit more. He was always better at it than her. "He never understood that his duty was not an obligation."

"Because he didn't feel like it was optional." Rathi threaded her arm through her father's as he led her from her room. "Mother was pressuring him." She wanted an alary on the throne, and Rathi suspected she always favored Eryen. 

Father sighed. "I was aware of the pressure. I'd attempted to dissuade her, but she was determined." His hairtips cooled to a soft blue of disappointment. 

Her mother and father rarely disagreed. They were often of one mind about everything. But on the occasions when they did disagree, Rathi knew her father often yielded. It was perhaps the only thing which saved their mating. 

"Yes, I know," Rathi demurred, and let the topic drop. Eryen was a sore spot for her family, and she knew better than to bring him up in front of Mother. 

Father led her out of the residential wing of the palace, under the high-vaulted ceilings where firebirds chittered in the eaves. The corridors were deserted of random passersby and servants, all of whom had flocked to the great hall for the celebration. Though they did pass a few slaves, staring glassy-eyed as they worked to polish the translucent stone of the windows. 

They were mortals. Rathi recognized two of them as human, though she didn't know their region of origin. Their pale skin was in direct contrast to Rathi's own. The third was a halfling or a gnome, she wasn't sure of the difference between the two. She didn't know what they had done to deserve such a punishment, or if they'd done anything at all and had simply been snatched out of convenience. Or perhaps they were from the slavestock, born and bred to a life of servitude and didn't know anything different. 

Rathi's stomach churned regardless. 

Rathi stared straight ahead, pretending not to notice their thin bodies, and thinner chains which bound them, magically spelled to ensure their submission. It was not a practice she approved of, but Rathi knew she was in the minority. If Father couldn't convince Mother to weed out the abhorrent practice, what hope did Rathi have on her own? 

No. This was something she could only change when she became Empress herself. Many, many centuries from now. 

Father, too, kept his eyes straight ahead, though his hair flickered in brief anger until he smoothed it over with blank disregard. They'd both learned how to calm their inner fury, so it didn't betray them to the larger majority of daemun living in Cinder Mountain. 

The hallway curved around to a short staircase, and the music reached Rathi's ears before anything else. It was a lively tune, flutes and drums offering a beat one could dance to, and Rathi imagined the dancers were already on the floor, swirling to the rhythm. She grinned to herself, excitement planting a flush across her skin. 

She'd worked so hard to get to this day, and now it was finally here. 

They descended the stairs, arriving on the inner balcony circle of the great hall. Cinder Mountain was built around the great hall, with corridors spiraling off from the center and great balconies overlooking the hall from each level. A central, spiraling stairway allowed access to the ground floor from each level. 

Rathi had spent many years in her childhood, running up and down the stairs to make herself dizzy. She'd raced Eryen, who could glide down, just to see who reached the onyx throne first. Eryen always won. That didn't stop Rathi from trying. 

By the gods, but she missed him. 

"Are you ready?" Father asked as they paused at the top of the stairs. They were three levels up, but already, her arrival had been noticed. 

"Absolutely," Rathi breathed as the music thrummed in her blood, and the taste of magic in the air made her skin tingle. There was so much of it here, soaked into the walls and the floor, brimming from the many nobles of the court, their children, their lineages, soaked in the bloodsigils painted across the banners. 

_And yet none as powerful as you will be, my champion_, Firenya whispered, and the hair on Rathi's neck stood on end. 

She shivered. 

They began to descend, Father steadying her with every step, and the music shifted from the dancing rhythm to a more solemn, honorable tune, a reimagining of the national anthem Mother used to sing to her as a lullaby. It was one of the few moments of maternal affection Rathi could recall and the memory filled her with warmth. 

Dancing ceased. Foraging of the buffet table came to an end. All of the visitors, the people of her land, turned to acknowledge her arrival. Mother even stood, rising from the throne with an elegant grace, her jewel-draped wings extending behind her with a flutter. She, too, was beautiful, her legs bared by the cut of her skirt, her bosom wrapped in gauzy strips of fine silk, highlighting the crown upon her collarbone. 

"Welcome Rathi, daughter of fire," Mother said, her voice carrying easily through the great hall, echoing up to the highest tiers. "Welcome Rathi, heir of mine. For you have defeated all challenges laid against you, and you have proven yourself determined and worthy to ascend the throne of Cinders." 

The gathered crowd of daemon and genasi and fireling and imp and all manner of being in service to the Cinders parted, creating a path directly from Rathi's stair to her mother up on the dais. Mother had her hands clasped, her wings half-folded, the gems glittering in the lights of the firejewels embedded in the walls. 

Rathi tipped her head deferentially, keeping pace with her father as he'd matched his gait to hers. "Thank you, Mother. Thank you, Empress Lythir, she who rules by fire and brimstone. I accept this honor I have earned. I accept the duty you offer." 

The words fell easily from her lips. She'd had them memorized before she came of age, before she even registered for all of the training sessions she possibly could, in order to become the best warrior in the kingdom. 

She could have recited them in her sleep, and according to the few lovers she allowed keep her bed overnight, she often had. 

"Your acceptance is heard and noted. Approach the throne, heir of mine. Receive the title you have earned, witnessed by the families who have served this kingdom since its inception." Mother gestured to the many attendees of the ceremony, the long drape of her sleeves whispering where they touched the floor. 

Rathi smiled and let her gaze wander over the individuals lining the path to either side of her, most of the faces she recognized as nobility and their families. Some were friends or fellow students or occasional lover. Two bruised and bandaged faces had been those she'd defeated in ritual combat. 

Father escorted her to the base of the dais. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, gently squeezing her hand. "I am so proud of you, daughter," he murmured. "You've truly outdone yourself. Save a dance for me?"

"The very first." 

Rathi planted a kiss on Father's cheek, dipped her head respectfully, and turned her attention to the steps leading up the dais. Mother stood there, waiting for her, and Rathi moved toward her carefully before dropping to one knee before her. 

"Rathi, daughter of fire, heir of mine, you kneel today having defeated five challengers, having displayed great intelligence and knowledge, having proven a matchless lineage," Mother said, her eyes meeting Rathi's while her voice carried. "As such, you have earned the mark of the successor." 

A young fireling stepped up beside her mother, holding a tray with several items balanced on it. One was a jar of the marking kohl, a paintbrush laid out on a small towel alongside it. Mother picked up the brush and dipped it in the jar, dark kohl dampening the tip. 

"As you receive the mark, remember the duty you have undertaken," Mother intoned as she quickly and deftly swept the wet paint over Rathi's forehead, starting in the center and branching outward, toward her temples, a crown to match the permanent one her mother wore. "Think of the honor you have received, and the vow you have made to serve your city and its people." 

Mother set the paintbrush down and picked up another item, one that would apply a small dot of glue to whatever skin it touched. There were three points on the crown Rathi would have decorated with such. 

"Remember the story you wear on your brow," Mother continued as she applied the glue, then carefully added the three gems to match the ones on her crown. "Never forget to honor Cinis, Ignis, and Fumus, protectors of Cinder, and serve them by serving your people." 

"I heed your words and accept this duty of my own free will and desire," Rathi replied as she closed her eyes to absorb the sensation, her heart hammering with excitement. "I will serve my people to the exceeding of my abilities, and I will remain humble and thankful to the counsel of my forebears." 

Mother smiled down at her. "Your dedication is heard and received." She retrieved the paintbrush and kohl once more. "Rise, Rathi, daughter of fire, successor to the onyx throne. Rise and receive the mark of intent." 

Rathi stood, ignoring the ache in her calves from so long on one knee. She stood a step below her mother, who was heads taller and more massive, and still an imposing figure. It had been many years since she'd experienced Lythir's gentle side, but Rathi would never forget how her mother used to embrace her and sing to her. 

Rathi lifted her chin. "I accept the mark and swear fealty to the throne of which I will ascend. I will bring pride and honor to my kingdom in all that I do." She unclipped her necklace and set it on the tray. "I am ready, Empress." 

"Your fealty is acknowledged." 

With a deft hand, Mother swept the paintbrush over Rathi's collarbone, applying the thick, swirling lines of the crown upon her collar. They, too, were impermanent, and would remain so until she finally ascended. A spot was left blank, in the hollow of her throat, and when her mother set the paintbrush aside, Rathi knew the final step was upon her.

The fireling bowed and stepped back, taking the tray and the items upon it with her. On Mother's other side, an erinyes moved forward, bearing a small pillow and a glittering jewel resting upon it with a post of solid gold. 

"With this gem, your place in history is certain, and your place in the hierarchy of Cinder will be visible to all who see it." 

The tip of her mother's talon, sharpened to a fine point, pressed against the hollow of Rathi's throat. She held herself still. She didn't dare breathe. She braced herself for a brief pain. It would be nothing compared to losing her arm. 

Mother applied the tiniest bit of pressure and broke the skin. Rathi smelled the blood welling up from the open wound as Mother scooped the glittering opal from the pillow and inserted the post into the cut she'd made. Searing blue flame burst to life on her fingertip, and Rathi braced herself as Mother seared her flesh, cauterizing the wound, locking the opal in place on her throat. A permanent piercing, never to be removed. 

It was over within the space of three breaths. 

"Received with dignity, daughter. Well done," Mother murmured, too quiet for anyone else to hear. 

She curled her knuckle under Rathi's chin, the scent of seared flesh and burnt blood clinging to the talon. "Congratulations," she said. "And may you serve Cinder well when it is your time to take the throne." 

Her hands landed on Rathi's shoulders, slowly turning her to face the watching crowd, and from the near-top of the dais, she looked out on a sea of faces -- purples and reds and oranges and browns, fire flickering in various shades, wings and horns and talons. These were her people. These were the ones she would lead when the time came for it. 

"It will be an honor to serve," Rathi said. 

Mother's hands fell away from her shoulders and rose, her wings stretching wide behind her. "I present you Rathi, heir to the Cinders, successor to the onyx throne. Long may she reign. Long may Cinder reign." 

The applause was deafening, as was the stomping of feet, the whistling, the growling cheers, picked up by the acoustics of the Great Hall and reverberating into infinity. Rathi felt it thrumming through her feet, across her skin, pounding in her chest. She hadn’t thought there were protests, but a tiny thread of worry had lingered nonetheless. 

It was effectively disintegrated by the applause thundering in the Great Hall. 

They approved of her. It was a wondrous thing to behold. 

The music burst to life, cheerful and energetic, rising louder than the applause, and signifying the end of the traditional rites. Rathi grinned and turned to address her mother, but Lythir had already stepped back to the throne and was lowering herself upon it with an elegant motion. 

Rathi swallowed her disappointment. 

She descended the stairs instead, where Father intercepted her before one of many potential suitors surged forward, eager to prove themselves worthy of a moment of her time. Rathi had lifetimes ahead of her. She was in no hurry to marry. 

“You promised me your first dance,” Father said as he offered her an elbow. 

“Indeed I did.” Rathi smiled, her heart warmed by her father’s affection, where her mother’s steely, political guise left her feeling cold. Her mother loved her, Rathi was sure of it. 

Leadership did not come without its downsides. 

Father led her onto the dance floor, just as the music shifted into a lively waltz, and this Rathi knew well. She’d been taught all the basic dances, and while her rhythm left something to be desired, with a learned partner, she managed just fine. 

Father was an excellent dancer. 

“What do you plan to do now?” Father asked as he swept her into the rhythm, taking on the burden of guiding them so Rathi did not have to think so much. 

Rathi hummed. “My training is done. I’ve gained the mark. Short of something untoward happening, I shouldn’t need to ascend for many years to come. I thought I might take the ferry.” 

“To where?” 

“The mortal world.” 

Father’s eyes flashed with surprise before they cooled into understanding. “For yourself or for Eryen?” 

Rathi grinned. “Can’t it be both?” She laughed as he spun her into a turn, deftly avoiding the dance of two nearby firelings who’d imbibed a bit too much of the evening’s special cocktails. “I have years to sow my wild oats, so to speak. I don’t have to spend all of them searching.” 

“But the mortal plane?” Father sighed, and while he didn’t sound disappointed, he did sound worried. “Wouldn’t you rather visit the Abyss?” 

As if the Abyss was any safer. The fear of the mortal realm around here was absolutely ridiculous. Mortals were no more dangerous than the monstrous beasts lurking in the shadows of the Abyss. 

“No. I don’t think I’ll have as much fun.” Rathi laughed and paused in the middle of the waltz to press a kiss to her father’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.” 

“There’s no doubting that, Rathi. But as a father, I worry. I’ve lost one child already. I don’t want to lose another.” Father deftly guided them back into rhythm. “Promise you’ll visit often.” 

Rathi squeezed his shoulder. “As often as I can, though you know travel between the realms is a little more difficult after I leave.” 

“You leave that to me,” Father declared as the song ended and a moment of silence descended in the Great Hall between one set of music and the next. “For now, however, it looks like you have a line of admirers waiting for a chance to dance with you.” 

Indeed, there was crowd of her people watching her with interest, those closest to her age, the singles, people she’d trained alongside or went to school with. A part of Rathi wanted to roll her eyes, vanish into the crowd, and vanish. But the part of her which understood what it meant to lead, knew she had to straighten her shoulders and suck it up. 

“Or you could dance with me all night,” Rathi said out of the corner of her mouth while she smiled at the queue. There were a few familiar faces she hoped to spend most of the celebration with. 

And perhaps the night as well. 

Father laughed and gave her a push toward the waiting throng. “We all have our burdens to bear, daughter. You only have yourself to blame.” 

Rathi grinned and felt lighter than air. “There are worse problems to have,” she sang over her shoulder before she swept toward the cluster of eager suitors. 

“Brunhilde! Is that smile for me?” Rathi said as she greeted one of the female firelings she’d attended seminary alongside. “Perhaps that means you’re interested in a dance?” 

Brunhilde blushed a lovely shade of pink as her fiery form coalesced into something solid and tangible. “But of course, Rathi. If I could have but a moment of your time.” She bowed and extended her hand -- her right hand, asking for Rathi’s left. It was such a graceful move, Rathi almost didn’t catch the way she checked herself, nearly offering for Rathi’s missing right. 

“Gladly.” Rathi set her hand in Brunhilde’s and let herself be guided onto the dance floor. 

It was one of the last nights she would spend in the familiar safety of her home, before she ventured into the world at large. 

She intended to enjoy every moment of it.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is most welcome and appreciated. If you enjoyed this fic at all, I'd love to know. :)


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